


The Power of Three

by CatWingsAthena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And goes with them and becomes a hunter, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e04 Phantom Traveler, F/M, Jessica Moore Lives, That's pretty much the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-30 04:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15089066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWingsAthena/pseuds/CatWingsAthena
Summary: What if Jess had been just a little nosier than she was in canon? What if she overheard that infodump conversation (you know the one) and learned the Winchester family secret? What if she wasn't the type to leave well enough alone? And what if Sam had taken those dreams just a little more seriously?Or, what started as Jess coming along on justonehunt turns into the making of a new hunter--and the survival of someone who was supposed to die.The world will never be the same.(Also, yes, titled after a Doctor Who episode, because my imagination is on vacation.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everybody! First things first: this fic is never going to end. It will stop (when I no longer have the interest/motivation/time). It will not end. Jess is here for duration, which means this fic properly spans the entire show. I'm not writing that. That having been said, I promise there will be no cliffhangers, and I will try to make each chapter feel like the story could be complete if it stopped there.
> 
> Second: The first chapter hews pretty closely to the pilot episode, although the order of events and some of the events themselves change and we lose a day, because the original timeline made no sense. If episode rewrites bother you, be warned. I am grateful to ForeverDreaming.org, the transcript from which I leaned on heavily while writing this chapter--thus, if you recognize the dialog, it's probably not mine. Also, standard disclaimer that none of these characters are mine. I promise, things will diverge from here; I just needed to set things up. Hope you enjoy!

When the crashing noises from out in the apartment jolted Jess out of a sound sleep, she lay still and silent for the few seconds it took her to contemplate her next move.

Sam wasn’t next to her, and the noises sounded like a fight. If there was an intruder in the house, Sam was in danger. Her phone was on the nightstand. Maybe she should stay in the room and call 911—but Sam was in danger  _ right now _ . She needed to go to him. She’d taken self-defense lessons; she could be useful in a fight. She knew that Sam would probably want her to stay put and call the police—but she also knew there was  _ no way in hell _ she was leaving him to face an attacker on his own.

Before she could get out to the place where the noises were coming from, though, they stopped. Instead, she heard the murmur of voices. One of them was Sam’s, the other she didn’t recognize. She listened closely—maybe Sam was trying to negotiate? But he didn’t sound frightened or stressed. He sounded calm. Whoever this mysterious intruder was, Jess decided, Sam definitely knew him.

A moment later, her suspicions were confirmed as the unknown voice said “if I’d called, would you have picked up?”

Jess decided this had gone on long enough and turned on a light. “Sam?” she called, announcing her presence and inquiring what-is-going-on-here at the same time. As she turned on the light, she saw a man standing next to Sam. He was wearing a leather jacket, had short hair, and might have seemed tall if her boyfriend had been any shorter. The thing she noticed first about him, though, was that he was looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortably aware of how skimpily she was dressed.

“Jess!” said Sam. “Hey! Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.” Right away, the name  _ Dean _ set off all sorts of alarm bells in her brain. Sam had talked about  _ Dean _ on the rare occasions he’d talked about his past— _ Dean _ , his brother. Jess didn’t know much about Sam’s life before he got to Stanford, but she knew his mom had died when he was very young and he’d been raised by his dad and his older brother—from what he’d told her one night while a bit tipsy and very sleep-deprived, more by his brother than his dad. Now that she was seeing him in person, he couldn’t be that much older than Sam—five years, max.

“Wait,” she said. “Your  _ brother _ Dean?” Sam nodded.

Well, then. Her opinion of Dean was getting lower by the second, given that he was still leering at her. “Oh, I love the Smurfs,” he said, and it took Jess a moment to realize he was referencing her shirt. “You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother’s league.”

“Just let me put something on,” she said, but he called after her, and she turned around. She didn’t really know why. Maybe she was just too curious about Sam’s family to leave, given the little she knew of his past.

“Anyway,” said Dean, “I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you.”

“No,” said Sam, putting an arm around Jess. “No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.” Jess, feeling a rush of affection for Sam, leaned into the contact.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip,” said Dean, “and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Sam was silent. Jess couldn’t make out anything in his face that would tell her if that meant something beyond the obvious, but in a moment, she was fairly certain it did.

“Jess, excuse us,” said Sam. “We have to go outside.”

Jess’s insides went cold.

Jess knew something was very wrong here. It wasn’t like Sam to change his mind so quickly—when Sam got his mind set on something, changing it was almost impossible—and it certainly wasn’t like him not to trust her. Which meant his family had a secret, and it was big. And it had something to do with this... hunting trip thing.  _ Are they serial killers? _ Jess wondered. Maybe “hunting” was a euphemism, and Sam had run away to college because he didn’t want to do it. It would certainly explain why Sam never talked about his past. And his minor serial killer obsession. Or maybe it was something else, something equally big. Rationally, Jess knew she was jumping to conclusions, and that the explanation for Sam’s weird behavior tonight was probably perfectly mundane. But she needed to know for sure, and there was only one way to do that.

When Sam and Dean went out the door, Jess waited for a moment, and then followed.

...

From below her on the stairwell, Jess could hear Sam’s voice.

“—poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil’s Gates in Clifton? He was missing then too. He’s always missing, and he’s always fine.”

Hang on.  _ Poltergeist? _ The ghosts that threw stuff around? Was that code for something?

She kept listening.

“When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45!”

“—So we kill everything we  _ can _ find—”

“The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets?”

By now, Jess had heard enough.

There were four possibilities. They were speaking in code (not likely, too elaborate), they were both delusional (not likely, if Sam was delusional Jess thought she would know about it), they were making all this up (why would they do that? They were alone, as far as they knew), or, fourth and strangest, it was true.

The Winchesters hunted, all right, but they hunted  _ creatures _ . What sorts of creatures, Jess didn’t know, but not the kind people normally hunted. Creatures like poltergeists, and maybe werewolves, going by the silver bullet comment. Sam had wanted out of that life, gone to college, and sworn to never look back.

And never  _ told _ her.

“Okay,” said Jess, stepping out of the shadows and looking at Sam, “I think you have some explaining to do.”

For a long moment, there was quiet.

“Dean, excuse us,” said Sam. “We have to go inside.”

...

“So, run that by me again,” said Jess. “ _ What’s _ real?”

“You know when you’re a kid, and you’re lying awake at night, and you hear a noise, and you start thinking about all the scary stories you’ve read or heard, and you think to yourself, ‘don’t worry, ‘blank’ isn’t real’? Well, fill in the blank—it’s real,” said Sam.

“And... your family hunts all that stuff?” Jess confirmed.

Sam nodded. “It’s sort of the family business. Except it doesn’t make any money, so it’s hustling pool and credit-card scams.”

“What I don’t understand is, why didn’t you tell me?”

“We have a rule, in our family. Never, ever tell outsiders our secret.”

“Doesn’t seem like you care much for your family’s rules,” said Jess. “What’s the  _ real _ reason?”

Sam took a deep breath. “I was scared, okay? I was scared you’d think I was crazy and leave. I was scared I was gonna lose you.” He paused, then looked her square in the eye. “Am I gonna lose you?”

“Sam,” said Jess, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere. And, by the way? If you’d told me this, yes, I would probably have thought it was a delusion at first, but  _ I wouldn’t have left _ . I love you, regardless of your grip on reality. I believe you now, and eventually I’d have believed you then, but if I hadn’t, I’d still have stayed.”

Sam laughed softly. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I try,” said Jess, smiling.

The smile dropped off Sam’s face. “Could you be amazing for just a little while longer?” he asked.

Jess looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—Dean’s going to go try to find Dad, and... I’m going with him. I promise, I’ll be back by Monday morning, in time for the interview, I just... have to do this.”

“Sure,” said Jess, “on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“Take me with you,” said Jess. “I want to see what your world is like—”

“That’s not my world anymore,” said Sam. “I left it behind. This is just for a few days, just until we find Dad. If you were listening to our conversation earlier, you know that our dad going missing isn’t exactly new. Shouldn’t take long to find him—and when we do, I’m going right back to my life. My  _ real _ life.”

“How can you say that?” Jess asked. “You know there are monsters in the world, and you want to be a  _ lawyer? _ I’m pre-med because I want to help people—and I know that’s true of you too. It’s part of why I love you. Remember that time when you were running late to class with that professor who locks the door when class starts, and you  _ still _ stopped to ask some random person why she was crying and talk to her? From what I heard, it sounds like what your family does helps a lot of people. I want in on that—and the Sam Winchester I know would too.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Sam. “It’s dangerous—really dangerous. And we don’t always win. And—I just got tired of always running straight  _ toward  _ the ugly.”

“I repeat: you want to be a  _ lawyer.” _

“Okay, fair point,” said Sam. “But there is  _ no way _ I’m dragging you into this. I want you to be safe—”

Sam broke off. Jess was about to interject that she was a grown-ass adult and could make her own decisions, thank you very much, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be necessary. Sam seemed to be considering something. After a moment, he spoke again.

“All right,” he said. “You can come with. But  _ only _ for this one trip, just to show you how much you’ll hate it.”

“Sounds fair,” said Jess. “And if I don’t hate it?”

“We’ll cross that bridge  _ if _ we come to it,” said Sam.

“Works for me,” said Jess.

“Okay,” said Sam, “let’s go get Dean. He’s probably getting tired of standing around in the parking lot.”

Jess sighed slightly.

“Oh, about that,” said Sam. “I’m sorry about how he’s been acting. He’s just trying to piss me off. He’d be acting totally different if he actually wanted to sleep with you. If he’s making you uncomfortable, you can talk to him, and I  _ think _ he’ll stop. I’d talk to him, but that’d just encourage him, so...”

“I’ll talk to him,” said Jess.

They went out to the car.

...

“So,” said Sam when they arrived, “what was Dad hunting?”

“Hang on,” said Dean, “what’s she doing here?”

“I’m coming along,” said Jess.

“Um, no, you’re not,” said Dean. “This isn’t some field trip. This is serious. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“That’s what I tried to tell her,” said Sam. “She’s pretty stubborn.”

“ _ You’re _ saying that?” said Dean incredulously.

“Yeah, which should tell you you’re not getting anywhere if you try to keep her out of this,” said Sam.

“I know you guys help people,” interjected Jess. “I want to see what you do. I want to know what’s out there.”

“No, you don’t, sweetheart,” said Dean.

“Dean,” said Sam. “I actually don’t think this is the worst idea. Let her come along, satisfy her curiosity, show her it’s not something she wants to do full-time.” He paused. “Dean. Trust me.” He paused again and sighed. “Please.”

Dean looked away, then back at Sam and Jess.

“Okay,” he said. “But you have to stick close to us and do what we say. This could get rough, and you have  _ no _ idea what you’re doing.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Jess nodded.

“Right, then,” said Dean, opening the trunk of the car. Inside was a truly impressive array of weapons, through which he began digging. “Where the hell did I put that thing—oh! Here we are,” he said, pulling out a folder full of papers. He turned to look at Jess. “You want in? Let’s see what you make of that.”

Jess opened the folder and started leafing through. After a moment, she spoke. “Ten disappearances along Centennial Highway outside Jericho in the past twenty years, and they’ve been getting closer together. Most recent just a month ago, September nineteenth. All men. There’s a pattern—the cars are found with no one inside. No signs of a struggle, no evidence, no leads—at least not that they’re sharing with the public.” She looked up. “Did I miss anything?”

Dean gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t in any way inappropriate, though, which was a nice change. “Actually, not bad,” he said. “That pretty much sums it up. Anyway, our dad went to go check it out about three weeks ago, and I hadn’t heard from him since, which would’ve been bad enough, but yesterday I got this voicemail—” Dean broke off, retrieved a tape recorder from the trunk, and pressed play. The sound was staticky, and the words kept fading in and out.

“Dean,” said the voice on the tape recorder. “Something big is starting to happen. I need to try and figure out what’s going on. It may...” The voice continued speaking, but Jess couldn’t make out the words. “Be very careful, Dean. We’re all in danger.”

“You know there’s EVP on that?” said Sam.

“Not bad, Sammy,” said Dean. “Kinda like riding a bike, isn’t it?”

“EVP?” asked Jess. “Like electronic voice phenomena?”

“Oh, great,” groaned Dean. “She watch ghost shows?”

“Not with me,” said Sam.

“My dad,” said Jess. “I used to watch with him, sometimes. I never took it seriously.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to unlearn about eighty percent of that stuff. Anyway, I slowed the message down, ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.”

He pressed play again, and a woman’s voice spoke in an eerie whisper.

“ _ I can never go home. _ ”

“Never go home,” muttered Sam.

“All right, you two,” said Dean, “get packed up and let’s hit the road.” He looked at Sam. “And, for the record, I still think her coming along is a terrible idea.”

“Noted,” said Jess and Sam in unison.

They then went inside to pack.

...

On the ride to Jericho, Jess discovered several things.

First: she rather liked the music Sam derisively referred to as “mullet rock”. Jess hadn’t listened to much of that sort of music before her life took this particular unexpected turn. When she had announced this, Dean had immediately decided he needed to show her the best of the best, and played all his favorites for her. When she’d started nodding her head and tapping her feet in time to the music, Dean had grinned. Sam had looked less than pleased, but Jess had recognized his “I’m-pretending-to-be-annoyed-on-principle-but-really-I’m-not” face.

Second: When they said everything was real, they meant  _ everything _ . Sam talked and talked, as though he was making up for an entire relationship’s worth of keeping his silence, and Dean happily filled in any gaps. Ghosts? “Can’t cross salt lines, iron makes them go away for a bit.” Vampires? “Holy water does nothing—that’s demons. Neither does a stake through the heart. You have to cut off the head. Oh, and they’re fine with sunlight—it just gives them nasty sunburns, and they mostly sleep during the day.” Werewolves? “Lore’s closer to right on that one—silver kills them. Silver bullets are most reliable.” And—hang on—you said demons are real? “Yeah. Haven’t hunted one personally, but there’s loads of lore on them. Can’t cross salt lines, holy water hurts them, and there’s a ritual that sends them back to Hell.” Then Hell is real? “Presumably.” Okay, what about zombies? “Haven’t hunted one yet, but there’s a first time for everything!” (That was Dean.)

Third: her long-suppressed wish for a sibling was resurfacing with a vengeance. As was her gratitude for being an only child. Watching the Winchesters interact evoked both feelings, sometimes separately, sometimes at the same time. Once Jess’s questions were answered, they mostly drove in silence, save the music and Dean’s off-key singing. When the Winchesters started talking, though, they fell into an easy back-and-forth rhythm, filled with references to events she hadn’t been part of, that made her feel strangely lonely. Mostly, she tried to let them catch up—they were brothers who hadn’t seen each other in two years, after all—but every now and then, she would reach out and squeeze Sam’s shoulder, and he would make an effort to include her in the conversation. Still, the three of them talking felt awkward and stilted by comparison. Jess was a bit astonished at how easily the brothers seemed to have fallen back into their rhythm, considering how the evening had gone. If Jess had had a sister who’d broken into her apartment, flirted at her boyfriend, and demanded her help to find their missing mom, Jess would not have been pleased. Which perhaps explained the other thing she was detecting. Despite the easy way they talked, there was an undercurrent of...  _ something _ staining the conversation. She couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t distrust. It might have been anger, but that felt like an oversimplification. Whatever it was, Jess was glad she didn’t have to deal with it herself—even as she felt like she was perhaps missing out on something vital.

By the time they arrived, it was morning.

After making a few phone calls, Sam looked up. “All right,” he said, “there’s no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that’s something, I guess.”

“Hey,” said Dean, “check it out.”

Up ahead was a bridge with police cars and officers swarming a vehicle. Jess, sitting in the backseat, leaned to the side to get a better look.

Dean, meanwhile, had pulled over and was rummaging through a box that appeared to contain an assortment of fake ID’s, for Dean and someone else Jess assumed was Sam and Dean’s father. Jess saw that some of them were FBI. Dean pulled one out and grinned up at Sam.

Jess realized she’d reached a tipping point. Either she could stay in the car and go back to her safe, ordinary life when all this was over, or she could go with them, impersonate a federal agent, risk getting caught and sent to prison for a very long time (seemed unlikely—she had a feeling these two knew what they were doing), and start actually getting her feet wet with this stuff. Where that might take her—who knew. But, Jess realized, she needed to find out.

Because her life wasn’t safe. Not really. And it never had been.

And neither was anyone else’s.

So, when Sam and Dean got out of the car, Jess did the same.

“No,” said the Winchesters at the same time.

“Look,” said Dean, “you don’t know what you’re doing, and you could get us all caught.”

“I won’t say anything unless I absolutely have to,” said Jess. “You can do the talking.”

“Besides, federal marshals work in pairs or alone. Not in threes.”

“Well, I need the experience more than either of you.”

Sam stared at her. “You don’t need experience. You’re here for one job.”

“I’m here for one job  _ if I hate it _ . Don’t I need to get the full experience to know that? No fair otherwise.”

Sam sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay in the car.”

“Dude. Really?” said Dean, in an irritated tone.

“Just go,” said Sam.

As Jess walked with Dean up to the crime scene, she heard the voices of the deputies fade in. 

“So, this kid Troy, he’s dating your daughter, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s Amy doing?”

“She’s putting up Missing posters downtown.”

“You fellows had another one like this just last month, didn’t you?” Dean interjected.

It started out as an excellent performance. Dean brushed off the deputy’s “aren’t you a little young for federal marshals?” comment with a “thanks, that’s awfully kind of you” that seemed utterly genuine. From there, the facade slowly slipped until the very end, when he sarcastically said “that is exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect out of you guys” in response to the deputies’ theories. Jess, true to her word, said nothing, but did, as subtly as she could manage, stomp on his foot.

“You were saying about blowing our cover?” she hissed once they were well out of earshot.

“People see what they’re expecting to see,” said Dean. “If you carry yourself right, act like you belong there, nobody’s going to suspect a thing no matter what you say.”

Jess glared at him.

“C’mon,” said Dean, “let’s go talk to Amy.”

Jess must have looked surprised, because Dean followed up with “yes, you too. You said it yourself—you can’t figure out if you hate it if you sit in the car the whole time. And, frankly, I hope you do hate it, because my dad is in trouble and the last thing I need while I’m trying to find him is another complication, which you are. If you don’t...” Dean sighed. “Let’s go talk to Amy.”

They arrived at the car, opened the door, and briefed Sam, whereupon it was decided that Sam and Jess would handle questioning Amy.

...

Once they had Amy and her friend settled in a diner booth—Sam had provided their cover story—Sam complimented Amy on her pentagram necklace and explained that it was protection against evil. Jess smiled a little—that was Sam, sharing knowledge whenever he had it. Some people called him a know-it-all, but he was always happy to learn something new, and he’d readily admit when someone knew more than him about something. Still, he liked being the expert—and he often was. It was one of the reasons Jess had thought he’d make such a good lawyer. Before.

“Do people... say anything about the disappearances?” Sam was asking. “Are there any theories, besides what the police are talking about? Don’t worry about how crazy they sound, just tell us.”

Amy and her friend looked at each other, and Jess knew whatever they said next was going to be important.

“Well,” said Amy’s friend, “it’s just... with all these guys going missing, people talk.”

“What do they talk about?” asked Sam.

“It’s kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly, she’s still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? They disappear forever.”

“Thank you for your time,” said Jess.

They got up and went to get Dean.

...

The search through the online  _ Jericho Herald _ archives went fairly quickly, as Sam promptly figured out that it was a suicide and not a murder (yay for smart boyfriends!) and an article popped up on the screen. “Suicide on Centennial”, read the headline. The article concerned a woman named Constance Welch, who had jumped off a bridge after her children had drowned in the bathtub.

“That’s weird,” said Jess.

“What’s weird?” said Sam.

“The article says her kids were five and six. Isn’t that a little old to drown in a bathtub?” said Jess, puzzled. “I mean, things happen, but...”

“No,” said Sam, “you might be right.” He turned to Dean. “What if this is a woman in white?”

“You think...”

“Yeah.”

“What’s a woman in white?” asked Jess.

“They’re spirits,” Sam said, “They’ve been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, Hawaii, Mexico, lately Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women, but they all share the same story. When they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them, and these women—basically suffering from temporary insanity—murdered their children. Once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives, and now their spirits are cursed, haunting back roads, waterways, and if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.”

“It fits,” said Dean. “Disappearing men, same stretch of road...”

“So, you think Constance killed her own children?” asked Jess.

“You said it yourself,” said Sam, “they were a little old to drown in the tub on their own.”

“If we’re dealing with a woman in white,” said Dean, “Dad would’ve found the corpse and destroyed it.”

“She might have another weakness,” said Sam.

“Yeah, well, Dad would have made sure. He’d dig her up,” said Dean.

“Only one way to find out where she’s buried,” said Sam. “Talk to her husband. If he’s still alive.”

“You two handle that,” said Dean. “Jess, see if you can get an address. I’m going to go check out that bridge. Look familiar to you?”

Looking closer, Jess saw that it was the bridge where the police had found Troy’s car.

Dean left, and Jess sat down to find Joseph Welch’s address.

...

The interview with Joseph Welch went about as expected—which was to say, very uncomfortably. They got what they needed, though, which was all Jess had been hoping for.

Sam gave Mr. Welch the same spiel about women in white he’d given Jess earlier, which confirmed two things: Joseph Welch had, indeed, been unfaithful, and Sam’s earlier excuse about not telling outsiders the family secret was, indeed, utter bullshit.

“Okay, let’s go salt and burn her, if Dad hasn’t already,” said Sam once they’d left the premises, by which time it was getting dark.

“Salt and burn?” asked Jess.

“Salt is basically superpowered evil repellent, and fire is pure destruction,” said Sam. “The combination will kill an awful lot, including ghosts, when you use it on their bodies. Or sometimes ghosts get attached to an object, usually something that has their DNA on it, and then you have to burn that. But generally it’s their corpse,” said Sam.

They got in the car and started driving.

Breckenridge Road was a ways away. It was fully dark by the time they arrived.

Just then, Sam’s phone rang.

“Dean?” he said, then paused. “Okay.” He put the phone down and looked at Jess. “Dean needs us to meet him at this motel, right now. He found something important. About Dad.”

They turned around and drove to the motel Dean had mentioned.

...

When they arrived, Dean was waiting outside a room with the door shut. “Got us two rooms,” he said. “One for me, one for you two. But get this—I go to pay, and the man behind the desk says he’s seen the name on my card before. So I pick the lock and go into his room, and—you have to see this.” He opened the door, and they went in.

Jess blinked. It looked like something out of a movie. Papers blanketed the walls, covered in news articles about the missing persons, information about various creatures, and, over the article about Constance Welch, the words “Woman in White”.

“Dad figured it out,” said Sam. “By the way, the husband  _ was _ unfaithful. We  _ are _ dealing with a woman in white.”

“Good to know,” said Dean. “Given she ran me off the bridge with my own car.”

“What?” said Sam and Jess in synchrony.

“Yeah, apparently the bitch can possess cars. Would make killing people in them a lot easier, I imagine. Oh, and I don’t think Dad’s been here for a couple of days at least.”

“How do you know?” asked Sam.

Dean indicated a half-eaten burger. “You wanna smell that, be my guest.”

Jess was examining the salt lines on the floor. She looked at Sam. “You said salt is evil repellent. Is this normal... hunter behavior, or was he afraid of something?”

“Cat’s-eye shells, too,” said Dean. “Definitely trying to keep something out.”

“What sorts of things does salt keep out?” asked Jess.

“Well, ghosts and demons, mainly,” said Sam. “But ghosts tend to stick to one area... I don’t get it. Why would he be trying to keep a demon out, specifically? They’re super rare.”

“Let’s think about this later,” said Dean. “I’m starving. I’m going to get some food at that diner down the street. Who’s with me?”

“No thanks,” said Sam.

“I’ll go,” said Jess. “I’m hungry too.”

Once they got outside, Jess noticed a knot of police officers, two of whom were the deputies from earlier. One of them pointed in Jess and Dean’s direction.

Jess’s blood froze.

Dean pulled out his cell phone. “Dude,” he said. “Five-oh. Take off.” Pause. “Yeah, uh, they kinda spotted us.” He held the phone away from his ear slightly at Sam’s reaction to that. “She’ll be fine, I’ll take care of her. Go find Dad.” He turned to Jess, speaking rapid-fire. “They give you a chance to turn evidence against me, take it—make shit up. We’ll be fine. Ain’t my first rodeo.” He looked up. “Problem, officers?”

“Fake U.S. marshal, fake credit cards... you got anything that’s real?” the deputy asked.

“My boobs,” said Dean, grinning, and Jess was torn between irritation (this was  _ serious _ , dammit) and grudging respect.

They were promptly slammed into the hood of a police car, cuffed, and loaded into the back. 

...

When they arrived at the station, they were taken to separate rooms, which Jess had been expecting but found oddly unpleasant. Not that she couldn’t handle this on her own—she knew enough to keep her mouth shut—but having Dean there, troublesome as he was, would’ve been... nice, somehow. Maybe just because he’d been through this before.  _ Even though he was the one who’d gotten her into this mess _ , she thought with annoyance.

“So,” said the officer interrogating her, “what’s your name?”

Jess shook her head and said nothing.

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me,” said the officer.

Jess remained silent.

“Why were you impersonating a federal marshal?” the officer asked.

Jess said nothing.

“Okay, let’s try this,” said the officer, “what’s your partner’s name, and what was  _ he _ doing impersonating a federal marshal? This will go a lot easier for you if you answer that one.”

Jess shook her head again, more vehemently this time.

They passed a few hours that way, with the officer asking questions and Jess not answering them, until another officer burst into the room. “Nine-one-one call, shots fired at Whiteford Road,” he said. The officer cuffed her to the table and left the room.

A moment later, Dean came in with a finger on his lips.  _ I haven’t said anything all night, idiot, you think I’d start now? _ Jess thought but, naturally, did not say. Dean picked the lock on her handcuffs, then led her to the fire escape, which they climbed down. Dean then proceeded to steal a car, which process she watched with interest. It didn’t bother her—she trusted it would be returned to its rightful owner eventually (if not by them), and they were trying to stop more killings, after all. Jess hopped in shotgun, and they started making their way to Breckenridge Road.

When they were fairly close, they saw a phone booth and stopped. (Their phones had been taken, and they hadn’t had time to get them back.) Dean picked up the phone and dialed Sam. “Fake nine-one-one call? I don’t know, Sammy, that’s pretty illegal,” he said, grinning. There was a pause. “Dad left Jericho.” Another pause. “I’ve got his journal.”

“What’s that?” asked Jess, and Dean handed a leather-bound journal over to her for inspection. Inside, Jess found writings about all sorts of creatures, complete with drawings. She could hear the conversation continuing. Then she heard something that made her heart stop. 

“Sam!” shouted Dean. “SAM!”

“What happened?” she asked, even as she already knew.

“He said ‘whoa!’ and the line just went dead,” said Dean.

“But... she can’t hurt him, can she?” said Jess. “She only kills unfaithful men.”

Dean looked at her in wonder. “You are ridiculously secure, you know that?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” asked Jess.

“Not that I know of,” said Dean. “But I’d rather not chance it.”

“Me either,” said Jess.

“He would’ve been going to destroy the body,” said Dean. “That’s behind the house on Breckenridge Road. Going there’s our best bet.”

Jess was already in the car.

...

Jess didn’t know cars could go that fast, but she was very glad they could, because by the time they pulled up to the house, Jess could hear pained shouting.

She and Dean looked at each other.

“Sam,” they said at the same time, and Jess did not care if Sam had apparently been unfaithful (though she suspected that, later, she might), she wanted to  _ murder _ whatever was making him sound like that with her  _ bare fucking hands _ .

They sprinted to the Impala, and Dean opened the trunk and retrieved a shotgun. Jess, meanwhile, had a very clear view of what was happening inside the car. Sam was lying back in the reclined driver’s seat, face contorted with pain, with the ghost straddling him. The implication made Jess sick to her stomach, and that feeling was in no way reduced by the ghost’s horrific face or the fact that her hand appeared to be  _ inside _ Sam’s chest.

She didn’t have to look for very long, though, because Dean promptly shot out the window. The ghost turned to him, glaring, and he kept firing  _ through _ her until she disappeared.

Sam dragged himself up and started the car. “I’m taking you home,” he said, and Jess thought about the voicemail— _ I can never go home _ —and remembered what Sam had said about ghosts mostly sticking to one area, and what Joseph Welch had said about not wanting to live in the house where his children died, and was immensely proud of her boyfriend.

She only hoped what she thought was his plan worked.

As the Impala crashed through the house, Jess and Dean followed. Sam was quickly surrounded by a chorus of “Sam!” and “are you okay?”

“I think...” he said, which had Jess very worried. If Sam’s response to “are you okay?” was anything less than an instant “yes”, something was seriously wrong. She supposed, after what she’d just seen, she couldn’t blame him.

Dean had apparently picked up on the same thing, because his next question was “can you move?”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Help me?” Jess and Dean both went to help. After an awkward moment, Dean leaned into the car and helped him get to the passenger’s side, then they each took an arm to help him up. As soon as Sam was on his feet, Dean closed the door behind him.

“Look,” said Jess. The ghost was standing by the stairs. She held her arms out, and a dresser went sliding towards them. Before they could move out of the way, all three of them were pinned between the dresser and the car.

Then the lights flickered, and Jess heard water running.

Jess saw something in the ghost’s eyes. Fear? Definitely fear. By now, Jess could see water pouring down the staircase.

“You’ve come home to us, Mommy,” said an echoing voice—or maybe two voices? Either way, it was creepy as hell.

Jess couldn’t quite make sense of what happened next. There was a lot of light, and a lot of shouting, and the ghost (and the two  _ little _ ghosts) sort of... melted?

When it was over, there was a puddle on the ground and an echo in the air.

Together, the three of them pushed the dresser away and walked over to the spot where the ghosts had vanished.

“So this is where she drowned her kids,” said Jess.

Sam nodded. “That’s why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot,” said Dean. “Nice work, Sammy.” He slapped Sam’s chest, and Jess winced in sympathy as Sam recoiled slightly. He was laughing, though, which made Jess feel a little better.

A little.

She listened to the brothers joking, about shooting Casper in the face and death threats if the car was messed up, and wondered how this had gotten to be their normal, and if it would ever be hers.

And if she really wanted it to be.

Jess shook her head.  _ How _ many more people would that ghost have killed? The attacks had been getting closer together at an astounding rate—would it have burned itself out, or just kept killing? And even if it burned itself out, how many more victims before it did? No, this was her life now.

She just had to get her boyfriend to accept that.

She wouldn’t make Sam abandon his dream of a “safe” life. She knew how hard he’d worked to get away from the life she’d just gotten a taste of. But...

If he wanted to come with her, amazing. She’d go with the Winchesters, look for their dad, kill whatever nasties they found along the way.

If he didn’t... she’d strike out on her own. Maybe the Winchesters could point her in the direction of people who’d mentor her, or maybe she’d learn as she went along.

Either way, she had to do this.

...

Sam was sitting in the passenger’s seat with a map in his lap, locating some coordinates the Winchester brothers’ dad had apparently left for them. He found them at Blackwater Ridge, Colorado, about six hundred miles away.

“But first,” said Dean to Jess, “I gotta take you home. You are  _ not _ coming with.”

“Uh... Dean...” said Sam.

“Oh. You too, huh?” said Dean.

“I gotta make the interview,” said Sam.

“Before you decide that,” said Jess, “there’s something you should know.”

“Oh, no, here we go,” muttered Dean.

“I’m going to do this,” said Jess. “With or without you, so if you want to stay out that’s okay. I don’t want to keep you from following your dreams or make you do something you don’t want to do. If you don’t want in—I’ll find my own way, that’s okay. But if you do—let’s go to Blackwater Ridge.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “all right. I’m in. Let’s go.”

“What?” sputtered Dean. “Sam, how are you okay with this? She knows next to nothing, and she’ll be a liability when we need to be on top of our game!”

“Dean,” said Sam. “There’s something  _ you _ need to know. Stop the car, we need to go outside.”

“No,” said Jess. “If this is about me, you can say it in front of me.”

“Fine,” said Sam, “but you’re not going to like it.” He took a deep breath. “For the past couple of nights, I’ve been having dreams. Not normal dreams. Really vivid ones. About Jess dying.”

“I’m sorry, but not too worried,” said Jess. “It could be just anxiety dreams. I know you hate Halloween.”

“Did I ever tell you why?” Sam asked. “Mom died on November second. Nobody in our family was ever happy this time of year. And these dreams—they’re not normal, generic person-you-love-dies dreams. They’re very specific.” He paused and looked at Jess. “I dream about you, on the ceiling, with your stomach slashed open. And then you catch fire. And everything burns.”

The color drained out of Dean’s face, and for a moment, Jess thought he looked like a small child.

“Did I ever tell you how Mom died?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Sam. “She died in the fire that destroyed our old house. She was pinned to the ceiling. I figured the dreams could have been because of that.”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “But I’m pretty sure no one’s ever told you her stomach was slashed open.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look terrified.

“We know psychic people exist,” said Sam. “We know some personally. And the thing that killed Mom is still out there. What if I can predict the future, and it’s coming after Jess? I don’t need to tell you what day it is.”

“November first,” said Jess. “Second by now.”

“I’ve never heard of psychic powers manifesting this late,” said Dean, “but there’s a first time for everything.” He glanced at Jess in the rearview mirror. “Jess? Did you want to come with us?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good,” said Dean. “Because otherwise, we would have been kidnapping you.”

“The sooner we find our dad,” said Sam, looking at Jess, “the sooner we figure out what this thing is, and the sooner you’ll be safe.” He paused and looked at Dean. “On that voicemail, Dad said, ‘something big is starting to happen’. What if this is it? What if the thing that killed Mom is back?”

“Hold your horses, there,” said Dean. “One thing at a time. Whatever wants to get at Jess is gonna have to get through both of us. For now, Dad wants us to go to Blackwater Ridge, so I for one say we go there. To Blackwater Ridge?”

“To Blackwater Ridge,” Jess and Sam chorused.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess and Sam hunt a demon on a plane, and Jess gets some unsettling news.
> 
> A rewrite of "Phantom Traveler", where Dean gets to stay on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! I know I said I'd diverge from the episode rewrite style, and that's still in the cards for later, but for now we're sticking with it. It's less line-for-line than last time, though. Hope you enjoy!

Jess was beginning to settle into the rhythm of her new life.

She and Sam had gone through the procedures to officially withdraw from college, finagled their way around their apartment lease, and otherwise dealt with the necessary protocols of leaving their old lives behind—including the painful half hour Jess had spent on the phone with her parents. She’d been on two hunts besides her first, and acquitted herself well on both. She’d managed to convince an unreasonably apologetic Sam that being forcibly kissed by a murderous ghost was in no way his fault and did not constitute infidelity, no matter what said ghost seemed to think (if ghosts could be said to think at all). She’d gotten used to sleeping with salt around her bed. She’d become a much lighter sleeper.

It was the last that was bothering her at the moment.

She was lying in bed, staring at the wall and listening to Sam’s steady breathing. It was around three in the morning. Jess didn’t know what had woken her up, but it could have been anything—someone walking down the hall, a neighbor’s creaky mattress, Sam shifting position.

It could have been  _ anything _ .

Jess had to admit that it wasn’t much fun, thinking something was out to get you and knowing, in rather gruesome detail, exactly what it would do to you if it caught you, but not knowing what it was, or if it was even still around at all. Jess almost wished she knew for certain that something was after her. Then she’d be sure that she was right to be afraid, and could start looking into what it was. The not knowing was worse.

Jess sighed, sat up, and checked the salt line around the bed.

To check the salt line on Sam’s side, she had to lean over him, which resulted in him stirring. “Jess?” he said, suddenly wide awake. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said, scooting back over to her side of the bed.

Sam looked at her for a moment, then looked over the edge of the bed. “Salt line’s still good,” he said.

Jess smiled sheepishly.

“Hey,” said Sam. “Don’t worry about it. This job, it gets to you. Happens to everybody.”

“Do you ever get used to it?” asked Jess.

“Do you mean, does the fear go away, or do you mean, do you get used to being afraid?” asked Sam.

Jess gave him a look. “I guess you just answered my question.”

Sam nodded. “You gonna be good? And—no is an okay answer.”

“Yes,” she said. “I want to keep doing this. We’re saving lives. Lucas? The Collins family? That’s not something I want to stop.”

Sam looked at her. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

Jess nodded.

Sam sighed. “It’s just... I was hoping... I wanted a future with you, away from all this. Where we wouldn’t have to be afraid.”

“You know you can’t make monsters go away by ignoring them, right?” asked Jess. “They’d still be out there. We could never be safe.”

“We could be a whole lot safer,” said Sam, “if we didn’t run headlong into every dangerous thing we came across.”

“Then why did you want to be a lawyer, of all things?” asked Jess. “There are more monsters in most courtrooms than you guys seem to deal with in your daily lives.”

Sam gave her a gentle shove. Then he paused. “See?” said. “You knew there were monsters in the world, and you were fine with it. You just didn’t know about the nonhuman ones.”

“This is different,” said Jess. “Human monsters people  _ know _ about. We can have a rough idea of what they do, how to protect ourselves—and when we can’t, we at least know what the risks are. Finding out that there’s a whole category of monsters I never knew about—that terrifies me.” She paused. “You know me. I need to know about things. If I don’t, they scare me. Knowledge is power. So I want to learn everything I can about these things. That’s the only way I’ll feel safe.”

“So, running headlong into danger makes you feel safer.”

“Maybe.” She stared straight into Sam’s eyes. “You weren’t going to tell me. You were going to let me live my entire life not knowing. You might have let me raise  _ children _ not knowing.”

Sam shrank back slightly.

“And what if I’d found out too late? What if something had gotten to me because I didn’t know all this stuff? We know something might be after me, and I may not be ready—I may not ever be ready—but you can be damn sure I’m more ready now than I was a few weeks ago. How would you have felt then?”

“I...”

“Hey,” said Jess quietly. She reached out and put a hand on Sam’s arm. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean any harm. And I won’t make you stay after we’ve figured out this... whatever-it-is if you don’t want to. But I need this.”

“I thought it was about saving lives,” said Sam.

“It is,” said Jess. “Mostly. But I can have other reasons.”

“Okay,” said Sam. “I don’t get it, but... okay.”

“I love you,” said Jess.

“I love you too.”

They went back to sleep.

...

Jess woke again to a knock at the door.

“You two decent?” called Dean’s voice from the hallway.

“Yeah,” Sam called back as he got up to answer the door. “Just a second.” 

“What time is it?” asked Jess sleepily, before checking her watch. “Five fifty-six.” She rolled out of bed and started getting dressed.

By this time, Sam had reached the door. He waited until Jess was fully clothed, looked through the peephole, and let Dean into the room. “What is it?” he asked. “I’m assuming it’s important?”

“Got a phone call from a Jerry Panowski,” said Dean as he made his way across the room. “Dad and I helped him with a poltergeist problem a couple years ago. Apparently, he’s having another, worse problem, and wants to talk in person.” Dean made a face. “Poltergeist was pretty nasty, too. If he’s saying it’s this much worse...”

“Where is he?” asked Sam.

“Kittanning, Pennsylvania.”

“Well, then,” said Jess, “let’s go.”

...

Some time later, they were screaming down the road to Indianapolis.

From Jess’s admittedly limited experience, it had been a fairly typical hunt so far—interviewing witnesses and the families of victims, impersonating Homeland Security to get into an evidence warehouse (which Sam had been adorably twitchy about), and, naturally, piles of research. Jess had rather liked the research part. It reminded her of curling up on the couch or bed with Sam while they each worked on a different project for school, each wrapped up in their own worlds but still aware of the other’s presence. Having Dean in the room killed the vibe a little, but it was still nice.

What they’d found in the course of their research, though, was about as far from  _ nice _ as it was possible to get. And it certainly wasn’t  _ typical _ .

Demonic possession.

_ Great _ .

Jess had learned that demons existed on the car ride to Jericho that first night she’d learned the truth, but abstractly knowing of their existence and being about to face one with plans to crash a plane full of people were two very different things. This might have been a typical hunt so far in terms of procedures, but the potential body count they were dealing with was way beyond the few hunts Jess had been on. There were going to be over a hundred people on that plane, all of whom would die if she screwed up. And how many more after that? There had been six crashes like this over the past decade.

To distract herself, Jess looked up. “So, how are we killing this thing?” she asked.

“We’re not,” said Sam. “You can’t kill a demon, at least as far as I know. We’re going to stop Amanda Walker from getting on that plane. We do that, the demon has no reason to crash the plane, no one dies tonight,” said Sam.

Jess reached forward and grabbed Sam’s shoulder. “No one dies  _ tonight _ ,” she said. “Amanda Walker is a  _ flight attendant _ . If she doesn’t fly tonight, she’ll fly tomorrow, or the day after. And what about the other survivors? I know none of them are planning to fly anytime soon, but we can’t stop them all flying forever. No,” Jess squeezed Sam’s shoulder a little tighter. “We have to get on that plane. We have to do  _ something _ to stop that demon from hurting anyone ever again. Because if we don’t, this doesn’t stop.”

“Well... there is  _ something _ we can do,” said Sam. “We can exorcise it. Send it back to Hell.”

“Can’t we do that on the ground?” asked Dean, gripping the wheel tightly.

Sam shook his head. “We won’t have time. We know the demon will be on that plane, but we don’t know which of the passengers it’ll be possessing. We won’t be able to sort through them all before the plane takes off.” He looked at Dean. “Problem?”

Dean grimaced. “It’s just... uh...”

“Dude. Are you okay?” asked Sam.

“Uh, no,” said Dean. “Not really.”

Which pretty much blew Jess out of the water. She hadn’t known Dean for very long, but she had the feeling that, if he’d just had his leg blown off and you ran up to him and asked if he was okay, he’d smile at you and say, “peachy.” So for him to admit that he wasn’t okay... it was pretty disturbing.

“What?” asked Sam, clearly just as astonished as she was. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” said Sam.

“It’s never really been an issue until now,” Dean snapped.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Does it look like I’m joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere?”

“Because your weapons won’t make it through security?” Jess interjected.

Dean gave her a  _ seriously? _ look. “Well, yeah,” he said, “but that’s not the main reason.”

Sam tilted his head slightly. Then he nodded. “All right. Jess and I can handle this one.”

“What?” exclaimed Dean. “You’re talking about going onto a plane that’s going to crash, to hunt a  _ demon _ with a newbie as your only backup? What if she freaks out when shit goes down, huh?”

Jess glared at him. “You already know that isn’t going to happen,” she said. “Remember the wendigo’s lair? Or Constance Welch’s house? If I was going to ‘freak out’, I think I would have by now.”

“She’s right,” said Sam. “Like you said, it’s a demon. We’re new at this, too. Jess is an extra set of eyes and hands, and we  _ know _ she won’t freak out. And—no offense—if you’re up there and you’re panicking because you’re afraid to fly, you’ll be wide open to demonic possession.”

“I won’t  _ panic _ ,” said Dean. He tapped his finger on the wheel. There was a long pause. “You guys really think you got this?”

“Absolutely,” said Jess, hoping the quaver in her voice wasn’t too obvious.

“Definitely,” said Sam. He sounded so confident. Jess wished she felt the way Sam sounded.

“Okay,” said Sam, “We’re going to need a way to exorcise this thing.” Sam grabbed a flashlight, opened his father’s journal and started flipping through. After a while, he looked up.

“I found something in here that should work.” Sam held up the journal. “It’s called the Rituale Romanum. It has two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim’s body and makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful—it doesn’t need to possess someone anymore, it can just wreak havoc on its own. But the second part sends the bastard back to Hell once and for all.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Jess. “So what do we do?”

“It’s a Latin text,” said Sam. “All we need to do is say the words.”

Jess leaned over to get a look at the page. “Should we memorize it? We have three hours until we get there.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Sam. “You want to look at it first, or should I?”

“You first,” said Jess, “and I’ll quiz you.”

...

By the time they arrived at the airport, both Jess and Sam had memorized the exorcism backwards and forwards, spent a good amount of time discussing the pronunciation differences between classical and church Latin, and thoroughly annoyed Dean, who wished aloud that the two of them would stop being such nerds already and focus on the job. Sam had replied that they  _ were _ focusing on the job, and Dean had told him to shut up. Jess had tried to get Dean to memorize the exorcism too, just in case he ever needed it, by reading it out loud to him line-by-line, but he’d complained about it being too long and said he needed to concentrate on the road. Which made sense, given that he was driving fast enough to violate not only the laws of the land but quite possibly those of physics.

When they arrived, Sam and Jess headed inside and looked at the departures board. 

“They’re boarding in thirty minutes,” said Sam. “That should give us enough time.”

They got their tickets, poured holy water into three-ounce containers to take through security, and arrived at the gate as boarding was in full swing.

Jess looked around at the assembled passengers. “You said demons possess people with some kind of weakness,” she said. “Would whoever it is seem nervous?”

“Not necessarily,” said Sam, likewise scanning the crowd. “If the demon’s already in them—which is my bet—it’ll be in total control. Might want to look as ordinary as possible, might seem smug, might be acting nervous just so nobody notices a difference. We have no way to know.”

“Great,” said Jess. “And it might not even be a passenger. Could be crew.”

“If that’s the case,” Sam replied, “we won’t be able to tell anything until we’re on board.”

“So we wait?” Jess asked.

“We wait.”

...

When the airplane’s wheels went up, Jess checked her watch. 8:06. “We have until eight forty-six,” she whispered to Sam, “or maybe a little less, depending on how long it takes to crash a plane.”

“Let’s get this over with as fast as we can,” Sam replied. “I grabbed the EMF meter—I’ll start checking the passengers as soon as we can get up. You go talk to Amanda Walker. It’s her first flight after the crash—if I were her, I’d be pretty messed up.”

“Works for me,” said Jess. “Is there a subtle way to splash holy water on someone?”

“No, no, I think we can go more subtle than that,” said Sam. “If she’s possessed, she’ll flinch at the name of God.”

Jess smiled slightly. “God has a lot of names.”

“Well, in Latin, it’s ‘Christo’.”

Jess gave him an odd look, then giggled. “Um, no, it isn’t.”

Sam blinked. “What?”

Jess sighed. “Hello? High school Latin champion speaking? ‘Christo’ doesn’t mean ‘God’, it means ‘Christ’. Some would argue that Christ  _ is _ God, but it doesn’t really feel like the time for theological speculation. And don’t get me started on the case. ‘Christo’—I’m going to assume there’s a long mark over the ‘o’, because if there isn’t it’s just incoherent—is either dative or ablative. That means, roughly, ‘to or for Christ’, as in, ‘I gave this book to Christ’, or Christ with a preposition, like by, with, or from, as in, ‘I’m sitting with Christ’. What you want is the nominative, ‘Christus’, if you’re just saying the name, or the vocative, ‘Christe’, if you’re addressing Him directly.”

Sam gave her a look. “Okay,” he said. “But I found a couple of sources that said it worked...”

“Maybe it did,” said Jess. “Because if I’m a demon, and I hear someone say something that sounds holy, at all, I’m not going to like it. But please don’t call it ‘the name of God’. And besides,” she said, “I thought of something even more subtle.”

Jess took out one of the three-ounce holy water bottles and mimed splashing a little on her hand and rubbing her hands together. “Nobody suspects a handshake, right?”

Sam smiled. “That should work.”

They sat in silence until the plane leveled off, at which time they each got up to perform their appointed task. Sam began sweeping the aisles with Dean’s homemade EMF meter, while Jess, by talking to various flight attendants, found Amanda Walker at the back of the plane.

Shortly thereafter, they met back at their seats. “Well,” said Jess, “It’s definitely not in Amanda. And she’s not a likely target, either.”

“I couldn’t find an EMF spike around any of the passengers,” said Sam, “or the other flight attendants. I  _ could _ be missing something, but...”

“Process of elimination,” said Jess. “Who does that leave?”

“Cockpit crew,” they said at the same time.

Just then, the copilot left the bathroom and walked by them. Sam held up the EMF meter, and it spiked.

“ _ Deus, _ ” whispered Jess,  _ mostly _ to test her theory and only a little bit to be petty.

The copilot turned, and his eyes flashed black. 

Then he resumed his journey to the front of the plane.

...

Amanda had taken some convincing, but she was on her way to retrieve the copilot, leaving Sam and Jess alone for a moment in the back of the plane.

“So, when he gets back,” Sam was saying, “I’ll take him down.”

“I’ll gag him,” said Jess, holding up a roll of duct tape. “And then, I’ll take his arms and you can take his legs?”

“Sure,” said Sam. “Do you wanna say the exorcism, or should I?”

“I’ll say it,” said Jess. “You can help me if I forget a word or anything.”

“You won’t,” said Sam. “Heads up.”

Amanda and the copilot were almost to the back of the plane. “Yeah,” said the copilot, “what’s the problem?”

Sam responded by punching him hard enough to knock him to the ground, over Amanda’s protests. Jess wasted no time in getting the duct tape over his mouth, sitting on his chest and using her knees to hold his arms to his sides and her feet to pin his hands. She then splashed a bottle of holy water over his face, which sizzled, to Amanda’s horror.

“Oh my God,” said Amanda, “what’s wrong with him?”

“Look,” said Sam. “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

Amanda sputtered.

“Don’t let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

“Okay,” said Amanda, “okay.” she left.

Jess began the exorcism.

_ “Regna terrae,” _ she said. “ _ Cantate Deo, psallite Domino—” _

The demon, which had been fighting her the whole time, managed to worm free of her grasp. It shoved her away, then ripped the tape off its mouth, grabbed her shoulders, and spoke.

“You’re gonna die screaming, girl,” it said with a grin. “Real soon. You’re gonna burn!”

Jess froze, stunned.

Sam moved around Jess and punched the demon in the face. “ _ Exorcizamus te, _ ” he said, continuing the exorcism, “ _ omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas...” _

Jess picked up and began speaking with him. As they spoke, they managed to get the demon pinned down. But just then, a cloud of black smoke billowed out from the copilot’s mouth and vanished into a vent.

“Where’d it go?” asked Sam.

“It’s in the plane,” said Jess. “We have to finish it.  _ Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica...” _

The plane bucked and heaved. The lights were out, and screams filled the air. Jess and Sam kept speaking.

Then, it was over.

...

Some time later, Jess and Sam had called Dean to let him know that they had successfully exorcised the demon and were safe, rented a motel room, and settled in in what Jess was discovering to be typical Winchester-fashion—ready to leave at a moment’s notice. It helped that Dean had their stuff, but still.

Now, it was time to talk.

“So,” said Jess, turning to face Sam from where she’d been sitting next to him on the bed, “when were you going to tell me you haven’t stopped having the dreams?”

Sam froze. “What?”

“On the plane. That demon said I was going to burn. Future tense. Meaning it’s still going to happen, meaning, if you really are psychic, the dreams probably haven’t gone away.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment. “I was hoping it was just stress dreams, like you said.”

“I said that before I knew about your mom,” said Jess, as gently as possible.

“Yeah, but maybe... they really were visions at first, and now I’m just still dreaming it because I’m worried about you? I mean, it’s past November second—”

“Do you really think something that wanted to kill me would stop just because the date isn’t right?”

“Well...”

“Hey,” said Jess. “I’m not mad at you. You just need to tell me these things. Because my knowing this could save my life.”

Sam winced.

“If you’re trying to spare me, it’s not working,” Jess continued. “I’ve been more afraid not knowing if something was really coming after me—and now I know. So, there’s that.”

Sam dipped his head, conceding the point. “Well,” he said, “we’ll stay on the move, try to stay one step ahead of whatever’s after you. We’ll find my dad and figure out what he knows—he must know  _ something _ , he’s been after this thing forever. And, if it does show up?” Sam’s face set. “We’ll be ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to hellissatisfied and Wild_Blue for leaving kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please leave kudos or a comment below! I hope you have a wonderful day!


End file.
